


In the Land of Memories

by Devilinthebox (princegrisejoie)



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Ficlet, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3959371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princegrisejoie/pseuds/Devilinthebox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Afterlife was nothing like the Death Note explained. Then again, maybe that was just another long, comforting dream he crafted for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Short fic for a Tumblr Prompt. I may write some follow-ups in the future but it works as a stand-alone. :) As always, any comment is appreciated (especially if you're interested in a follow-up).

Light crafted Kira, thread after thread, sewing in silence for fear of breaking the spell. Diligent like a princess in a fairytale. He stuffed Kira with grand ideals and a godlike charm.   
  
One day, he took a step back, admired his work, and let his creation seep into him. He wrapped his humanity in this handcrafted costume, forgetting death has an X-ray vision.   
  
Humans die, and you’re human when you die, and you’re afraid when you die. 

  
Kira discarded Light, just as the blood spilled. Is this a godly death? Gods never die. The death of a saint, perhaps – his hazy mind plays pretend and for a second, the bullets lodged in his body are arrows, the staircase is a wooden cross.   
  
Then, words from a dead man crawl their way to his bones. A sharp, physical ache that turn the real, bleeding wounds into mere scratches.   
  
“Are you afraid?” L says with a quieting fondness in his voice. “Are you afraid of the aftermath?” His face barely moves. (Light is too exhausted to do his smile from imagination too).    
  
Light forms the answer in mind but doesn’t dare vocalise it.  
 _  
Con: the Judgement.  
_ _Pro: I can meet you again._  
  
One he fears, the other he desires.   
Now death fogs his mind and he can’t tell them apart.

****  
  
Light thought that he heard someone cry, but it was only the rain. It  _rains_  in the afterlife. How come? It isn’t even a place.   
  
He gets it now. You live in your memories after you die. Makes sense: they are the only tangible testimony of the time you wasted on earth.   
  
Light bites his lower lip (doesn’t feel it).  _Wasted_. He shouldn’t think that just because he sabotaged his existence.   
  
And even for him, there were good times. He takes a timid step into the nothingness. It’s challenging, like fighting against the current, or battling with a faceless enemy.  _At least, it won’t be boring_ , he thinks, recalling Lind L. Tailor, the white screen and the letter L. The image comes with a certain joy he’d love to forget.  
  
Apparently, the afterlife is the memory of feelings too.   
  
*****  
  
When they see each other again, their first instinct is to observe the effect they have on the other, how it registers on their bodies.   
Every detail is scanned, analysed, understood. From Light’s clouded gaze to L’s trembling fingers. Old habits die hard.   
  
Their silence lingers, erases everything. Even the faint sound of the rain fades away, eventually.  
  
When Light miraculously finds his voice, it echoes off the nothingness.   
  
“If it can appease you,” he says, “I suffered.”   
  
“Well, I did suffer too. Surely you must remember how  _you_  felt, at least.” L fires back, playing on Light’s egotism like he used to.   
  
“I’m sorry –“ Light cuts himself with a sob and realises his eyes are swam with tears. It takes seconds for sorrow to settle into shame in the pit of his stomach.  
  
Something prevent him from averting his gaze and his eyes remain riveted on L. He’s always been sweeter in Light’s dreams, so… _perhaps…  
_  
“I know.” L drops his hand upon Light’s shoulder. Half-forgotten feelings surge back, shuddering down Light’s spine.   
He freezes under L’s touch.   
 __  
Is this just a memory?  
  
It’s as if L reads his mind then. He gives a sincere smile that never belonged to him alive, and Light knows this is not just a memory.   
  
It could be a dream. But what is a dream you never wake up from if not another reality? 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been asked to continue, and it was a pleasure. You can reblog it on tumblr if you want, [here](http://mellodear.tumblr.com/post/123284838101/au-where-l-and-light-do-meet-in-the-afterlife-but).

Death means end of play. You get to bow before the audience, or you don’t. You get applause, or you don’t. One certitude: that mask you wore? Useless now. There’s nobody to impress after curtain call. It’s time you became who you were always afraid to be. Death is a dressing room after the show.

* * *

The Afterlife through Light Yagami’s eyes - hills as red as blood spiraling endlessly, mysterious passageways crawling their way to busy underground cities, and his travel companion, a man he murdered. For hours, all he could focus on was that blood-stained shirt branding him as a victim. It felt terribly wrong, to play that part.

“I wonder if we’re seeing the same landscape,” said L, glancing about.

“We never saw the same world you and I. This won’t be any different.”  _Death is nothing exceptional. It’s nothing at all._

“There is no Judgement after all. Not for us, at least.”

That meant they, at least, were still special. What comforting dream. Alive Light felt reassured, but Dead Light wanted to shatter that lie to pieces the same way they had torn  _him_ apart - Kira. He gestured L to halt his walking, and realised at once he dared not touch him. “It will happen inevitably, the Judgement. They’ll make us part ways again.”

L’s dark eyes narrowed. “Light Yagami, weren’t you the one who chose to stray from me?” His tone of voice was all rage and frustration, only kept on a leash. It stung Light, his brutal coldness. It aroused his curiosity, also.  _He will not forgive me._ This was never just a game.

“This didn’t appear to me as a choice at the time,” said Light.

“Well, some of the sins I committed seemed inevitable to me as well. Only, I could see the truth. It was but a tale I told myself, and I recognised that lie for what it was. A lie, from the beginning. Serving justice pleased me before it appeared as a duty I had to fulfill. Why would I care about the means, if I was acting on my own selfish pleasure?” He closed his eyes and sighed. Light had never wanted to listen to someone’s voice that intensely. “I played the part of the ruthless private quite well, but I had that fantasy, as a child, that I would be seen as a vigilante. Someone who cared about justice, and created his own means, his own code. Then I met Kira. A vigilante. And I met Soichirô Yagami, a faithful servant of Justice. All my certitudes could not stand anymore. I let them fall down, and I captured the vigilante, and I worked with the cop.”

Light raised his eyes, heart pounding – an impossibility, he knew. Perhaps he imagined his heart pounding out of habit.  He held L’s gaze; unsettling as ever, with a touch of malice. It was well-adjusted to the man, more so than any masks in Ryûzaki’s repertoire. L had uttered Soichirô Yagami’s name on purpose.  _Does he intend to punish me?_ They seemed to have travelled years back, though even as L chained himself to Light, his sharpest words were never aimed at his suspect. Never had L’s cruelty shone so evidently to Light. It mattered now that he was the target. The dead have an endless supply of blood and energy, especially someone like L. If he was still there after all, that meant he had waited for Light.

“I don’t think your crimes measure to mine. You just proved it. In your heart, you never believed you were devoted to justice. You doubted yourself, and that was your end. What do I have for myself?” The last words fell pathetically.

That was pathetic indeed, to expect comfort from L. What could Light say for his defense? That he never designed for his father to die? That it was but a flaw in the plan, that cockroaches saw a breach in Kira’s influence and opened it. The wound had never healed – it was L all along, L that made Light careless, and who poisoned his fight against his successors.

Would his heart weigh heavier than L’s – who tortured and toyed with people? In the end, Light didn’t even move his pen across the white pages anymore; it was all in motion, a plan to change the world with, on his hands, as little scarlet as possible. Light loathed the smell of blood, so Kira washed his hands often.

“Your sins have nothing in common with mine,” Light persisted. “Don’t overestimate yourself. You’ll end up with all the other human beings. I just hope it’s not a garden. I hope it’s a prison, so it reminds you of me.”

L shot him a sharp look. “There is nowhere to go, Light. Not even for you. The Shinigami don’t want you. Paradise, if it exists, is not for us, and punishment…well, I guess that would be me, your punishment.”

The remark sent shivers down Light’s spine. “We’re  _somewhere_  right now.”

“I don’t believe so. I don’t believe we are somewhere. Somewhere implies there is a truth – places are facts you can’t deny. There is no referent, no rules of physics and space, there is nothing but us. In fact, we are the only reality. Truth doesn’t count in death, no more than any other collective lie, society, and traditions, and beliefs. It’s never quite written that way in the books; they talk of souls finally freed from earthly sins. They talk of a liberation, but it’s not our sins we left behind. It’s everything else, it’s the world itself. Only individuals matter in death. The show is over. We are who we were always meant to be.”

As L words filled Light’s being, a bell rang, that belonged in a funeral. It came with the wails of young children, and before Light could spot them, there rose a mansion that cut through the haze. It could be a hospital, or a catholic school, Light supposed. A voice in his head promised it was home, and soon Light knew it was Wammy’s House. His chest hurt and heaved.

“I’m standing in a memory,” Light whispered, with horror. “We’re sharing memories.”

“Do you hear them?” There was something wrong with L’s face. Sorrow painted his features, softened the sharpness in his traits. That sorrow Light called cruelty minutes before, it revealed the man beneath the letter L.  _I never knew him. Not truly._

“The bells?” said Light, and he stared at L until his eyes, dark and misty, met in return. “They used to scare you.”

“They still do.” It sounded cold as a command.

Half-forgotten feelings washed over Light, all at once. It was painful and pleasant, like standing in the pouring rain without the protection of an umbrella. He saw candies and crosses, deaths as challenges, more screens than he could count, and as many empty rooms where L had lived. Not before long he could hardly unlace his own thoughts from him…. The name flashed in neon lights – Lawliet, Lawliet,  _Lawliet_ ,  _you shared everything with me_. Quieted, Light did not feel the heaviness of his heart anymore. It wasn’t gone, it was all lightness. They were finally seeing each other, and even fright lacked power before the childish excitement bursting in Light.

“I have nothing to show you in return,” Light apologised, and placed his hand on the side of L’s neck. Silence lingered, until the distant bells defied their holy purpose, and turned into gunfire. There is a memory of nightmares. It’s a place you carry inside, like all the rest of you.

“Share it with me,” said Lawliet, sounding like the man Light should have chosen to know, “That’s how you exorcise a nightmare.”

“It’s a recurring nightmare from my childhood. It’s mostly sound – I had never seen a gun, but their sound…I imagined it was the most frightening thing in the world. Even my father never got used to it. You know my father, fear is just a word in the dictionary for him.” Silent as a tombstone, Lawliet nodded. Ryûzaki had been wary of eye contact, Lawliet abused it. “That sound lingered within me. You could explain it, I’m sure. You’d say it’s a symbol. It ruined fireworks for me. I could never watch them after the nightmare. I forced a smile, and I held my sister’s hand, while my mind ruined the fireworks.” Light’s voice died on the last words, and he unconsciously invoked a memory to mask his tears.

Gunfire softened into rain, and rain protected them. They seemed to have trapped time itself, captured its never-ending flow and bent it to their will. It was the only illusion they accepted to share.

Lawliet moved slowly to the balustrade. There is a memory of the body. He stared down at the emptiness beneath them as he did dozens of times before. They both loved that rooftop.

“They will come for us someday,” said Light, and he wrapped his arms around himself to ward the chill of a winter night he imagined. Lawliet hadn’t survived until winter, he passed in November.

“But they don’t know where to find us. These memories, only we know of them.”

“Gods know everything, don’t they?”

“Dear Light, you taught me one thing I would never have accepted on my own – Gods aren’t more powerful than us. They have different powers, and can be outwitted, destroyed, even killed by love.” Lawliet chuckled softly, and looked younger. “Can you believe it? Killed by love. I think humans romanticized the Gods.”

 _Humans did give Kira his name after all._  “We will stay here forever then? In a place that doesn’t exist?”

“I would, if that place wants me. I don’t think I deserve anyone but you. Mr Wammy must be at peace now.”

Light shook his head, and chased the thought of his own family away. “Memories have an end. One day, we will know this place like the back of our hands, and we will get tired of it.”

“Good, then,” said Lawliet. He turned to Light, and in a voice still beautiful: “It will be time to die.”

They clung to each other, and, though he did not perfectly fit there, Light found a certain peace in the circle of Lawliet’s arms.

Dreams are memories as well, and there is a dream they crafted often, before their death. In that dream, they shared an office in the highest floor of a tower made of glass. It’s a short sequence: Light sits on Lawliet’s desk and gloats over the case he solved on his own.  _‘And did I need your help, partner? Not even once.’_ He has a design, and it’s clear to Lawliet that he only intends to vex him. Rising up to his feet, Lawliet reins in a malicious smile, and instead of responding to the provocation, whispers words of praise against Light’s skin. There is an undeniable sincerity to his voice, and soon Light knows he is special and chosen, but pretends not to fall for Lawliet’s plan. The dream is recreated again, and again. They settle the fight in a different way each time.

In that dream, they’re still sinners, devoted to a greater good of their own selfish imagination; only this time, they chose the same path. And there’s pain, and they hurt each other, but never do they call it misfortune.


End file.
